“Oh, Margot couldn’t make it. She got sick. They sent me instead. I hope that’s okay. My name is Amanda,” said the girl with a smile that crinkled her light blue eyes in a childlike fashion.
“It’s fine,” he said, looking her over again. “You are over eighteen though, right? I mean, you have photo id?”
“Oh, certainly. I have a passport and a driver’s license.”
“Perfect! Well, come on back to the office and I’ll show you the set and where you can get ready. Though you won’t have to do much. That’s a honey of an outfit you have on.”
“Thank you! I bought it just to meet you.”
“Really?”
“Believe me, this is the most exciting day of my life!”
“So, you’re really in the scene, then?” Hugo led her back to his office where Laura was checking the battery on her camera. “Laura, this is Amanda. She came instead of Margot, who’s apparently sick.”
“Hi Amanda. I’ll be taking the photos,” said Laura, shaking Amanda’s hand. “God, you’re gorgeous,” Laura added, delighted by the beauty of her subject.
“And I’ll be spanking you,” said Hugo.
“I’m both thrilled and terrified,” Amanda replied with her hand to her heart.
“Seriously, though, you look incredibly young,” Hugo said. “Just how old are you?”
“I’m 18.”
“And, have you played before?”
“With my boyfriend I have!”
“So you’re saying you were into spanking before you started modeling?”
“Oh, definitely. I think it’s in my blood!”
“Why?” Laura asked, interested because an enthusiasm for spanking seemed to run in her own family as well.
“Well, because I know for a fact that my father spanked my mother on the night I was conceived.”
“How do you know that?” Laura asked.
“Because she told me that he always spanked her before they had sex.”
“Wow,” said Hugo. “Well, you’ll do very nicely, I think. Why don’t we go back to the studio and get started?”
Laura showed Amanda to a small room fitted up as a dressing room where Amanda sat at an ebony vanity and touched up her lipstick. The adjoining photographic studio featured a set that had been furnished as an old fashioned executive office, with a large mahogany desk and matching bookcase, brass-riveted leather chairs and a matching sofa.
Hugo and Laura had posed for and shot so many spanking photo sets over the years that the positioning and action flowed effortlessly, with a minimal exchange of verbal direction.
“Now listen honey, since this is only for stills, I’m not going to really spank you until we get to the bare bottom part, when you need to be pink,” said Hugo, once the initial pull over and surprised reaction shots had been taken by Laura.
“But, I won’t be able to produce the proper expression unless I’m really feeling it!” Amanda protested, looking back at him.
“You want me to really spank you?” he grinned at the agreeable girl.
“Yes! I need something to write in my diary tonight!”
Hugo shrugged at Laura, then slowly and methodically began to enact all the stages of a spanking that would go into making up an exciting photoset for an elegant spanking magazine. He’d been publishing his New Rod Quarterly since before Amanda was born and had a reputation for posing the most refined spanking photos in the scene. This Amanda would be the newest jewel in The New Rod’s crown. For a slim girl, she had a remarkably shapely, jutting bottom, which Hugo began to warm through the fine wool suit skirt with the palm of his hand.
“Oh,” she interrupted him. “I can take it much harder than that.”
Hugo grinned at Laura, tucking his hand around Amanda’s waist and pausing while Laura lined up the shot.
“Amanda, cheat your eyes up like you’re looking back at Hugo but keep your face turned towards me,” said Laura. “Hugo, look at her, in my direction. Okay, give her about six swats, but slowly.”
Hugo administered six hard swats, spaced ten or so seconds apart, each one eliciting a sharp intake of breath, a leggy kick and a vigorous flip of a curtain of silken sandy blonde hair.
“You two almost look alike,” Laura commented, snapping photos every couple of seconds. “You have identical coloring and the shape of your eyes...Hugo, we should make this a father-daughter scenario.”
The comment caused a naughty smile to flit across Amanda’s face, again crinkling her eyes in a manner that made her look years younger than eighteen. Laura snapped another face shot then paused.
“Hugo, could I talk to you for a minute?” Laura said.
“Why? What’s going on?”
“Just a second,” said Laura, marching out of the room.
Hugo put Amanda off his lap and told her to wait there then joined Laura in the dressing room.
“What is it?”
“We need to look at that girl’s id before we lift her skirt. She looks so young to me!”
“Okay, okay, no problem.”
They went back into the studio.
“Honey, let’s get your id shot now, so we don’t have to think about it later,” said Hugo to Amanda.
“Sure,” replied Amanda, digging her documents out of her purse and presenting them to Hugo.
“Go ahead and hold them so Laura can photograph them,” said Hugo, “you know how.”
Amanda looked momentarily puzzled then laughed and replied, “Well, I’m kind of new to this, I forgot how.”
“Hold them under your chin,” said Laura, positioning the opened passport and driver’s license in Amanda’s hands.
While Laura was focusing on Amanda’s face and the identifying documents below she noticed that Amanda’s last name was Sands.
“What a funny coincidence,” said Laura, “Amanda’s last name is Sands.”
“That is funny,” said Hugo. “Well? How’s that birth date?”
“Oh, she’s eighteen all right. Just,” Laura replied.
Just then the phone rang. Laura picked it up, spoke for a few moments then turned to Hugo. “It’s Margot. She’s at the station.”
“I thought you said Margot was sick?” Hugo said to Amanda.
“She must have felt better at the last minute and not realized they sent me,” Amanda replied calmly.
“Laura, would you run and pick her up? We’ll turn this into a double shoot.”
“That will work,” said Laura, leaving Hugo to stare at Amanda with a strange sensation.
“You’re not... related to me, are you?” he asked, feeling as he looked into her pale blue eyes that he was looking into a mirror.
“Yes, I am. Haven’t you figured it out yet?”
“I know I don’t have any more nieces. Are you perhaps a second cousin?”
“You wish. I’m your daughter.” A moment of silence